Alas, it was again a 9.30 game. Which meant, yep, a pre match piss up. Inzy's idea of making us stay sober by showing up to his place at 8 instead of 7 didn't work as we managed to put away more beer per person than the previous week. Something to do with "cramming" for the big game. Much like we did in year 12 but that was for exams. Not sure if I did the exam cramming in year 12 though.
CD player in hand, we arrive at the "Stadium da Weston" with guest cheersquad leaders Annie in tow and Gra Gra (arriving independently). The bar was filled with ordinary looking shirts, and needless to say, the shirts were made look even better when we looked at the heads that were sticking out of them.
Money collected, I headed off to the counter at which point I received news that could turn the tide of the game - we weren't allowed to play the theme song during the game - BUGGER. I could sense there was some friction between us and the rest of the teams there already, and this had done nothing for the bitter rivalry that we'd striven long and hard for.
I enter the arena, 7 drunken bums stagger down the steps from the bar and onto the court and join me. Annie and Gra Gra planted their bot bots on seats to witness a spectacle of epic proportions, but that was on the court next door to ours. We toss the coin (or have a "toin coss" as one person mentioned) and for the first time, I won and gloated like no man's business, in hindsight I think the lap around the stadium with my shirt on my head was be a bit excessive. I could see Allan Border in my mind saying, "win the toss, bat first, keep them down the keep the pressure on them". So with that I thought Ahhhhh, fuck you AB, "We'll bowl".
Sobering up in the field is the best method I feel. I learnt that from Boonie. We kept the pressure on them, but for a bloke who resembled the gut of Merv Hughes, the batting prowess of Ian Botham, the goatee of Damian Fleming and the fielding grace of Bob Willis, who spanked our bowlers silly. The back net has been put in for a "re-tension" after getting ball after ball caned into it. Mostly, our fielding was superb. Luke fielding in the mid on position fielded like the sexual tiger he is (so I've been told - mostly by him!), holding catches, throwing down the stumps. Old WA WA in the corner stopped most things, and even some that weren't hit straight at him. He got the deserved work out when the left/right combo were in session and had to change sides every ball. Young WA WA had a shocker early on by dropping a ball that was dollied back to him for six. I think that Mark Bosnich would have been happy the way you flicked that over the crossbar.
Baby John fielded exceptionally as per normal, throwing down the stumps from the other end of the court, prompting myself and Schlang to take evasive action by going to the bar for a beer. Then there was Davo..............geeeeeee. Young Davo was not in this land, nor any other land for that matter. I think he'd been smoking the grass before the game - mate, the grass, it's artificial, the stuff's no good to smoke. Dave had the tricky job to "move in", which Dave took as "go away", "go out", "stay there" or just plain look around as if to say "sorry, I don't understand". Good to see the Call Centre's in good hands.
We kept them down to 127. The last over consisted of 3 leg side wides and 3 no balls, but I wont mention that Baby John bowled the last over. Everyone, including the batsman went to sleep as JB bursted his little heart out, bowling and bowling and bowling until finally a dot ball sealed the inning.
To reward JB on his efforts, I sent him and Jase in. Jase, looking a perfect speciman for someone who should have passed away 3 weeks ago, was primed for a biggun, I could see it in his eyes. I last gasp on the cancer stick and away they went.
A lazy 43 followed and all looked well, well, except for JB who was beetroot red and about to explode. But, anything they can do, Sticks and WA WA can undo just as quickly, as they've tried to prove over the past few weeks. And to our amazement, they piled on the runs. After 8 overs we were 80 and within striking distance. Coming off the court, young Sticksy raised the bat in the air, a la Sir Don, much to the delight of..............ah, himself.
Inzy and Davo followed and chipped and prodded like a chook with it's head cut off. Actually, I think Inzy ran like a chook with it's head cut off, only to find out later that he'd done a "heartlidge". Sterling looking drives that flew past the keeper off the inside edge highlighted their luck...........until................the last over. We wont mention the last over except to say that with 5 balls remaining they had 102.
Fiji bound Schlang and I entered the court. The knob-end opposition, who shit us all to tears, had their bums up.............no, that was after the game..............their backs' up with the score reflecting the last 5 balls.............................77.
With 51 to win, I still thought Schlang and I were a chance to knock these Johnny come lately's off. Suddenly, all those little knicks that passed the keeper in the previous twelve overs. The fat bastard mentioned earlier who couldn't run out of sight in a fog, fielded, ran us out and caught everything. A swab later revealed that this bloke was, as we all expected, yes indeed, a tool. We managed a paltry 22, totally only 99 and our finals race was over. I almost expected us to win and hence write yet another chapter in the soon to be released novel "From Partridge to Glory".
Alas, there will be no novel. There will be no grand final after match piss up. There will be much sobbing in the beer, much agonising over the defeat but most of that will come on September 3 when the boys arrive at Bobby McGee's dressed in team uniform Hawaiin shirts. This reared it's head again on the Wed morning, when sorry heads were seen in the Infolink team and one member, who we shall call "Greg" jokingly said that "we're not really gonna go to Bobby's in those shirts are we? I'll never pick up!" To wit I replied in my best Shakespearen vocab., "Oh, yes, for thou shall be wearing such attire, otherwise encounter such humiliation and goldeth coineth fineth, but thou is correcteth, thou shall not pick up, but it not be the blame for one's attire, it shall be because of thou's head".
A close escape was had by young WA WA too. Driving home from criggit, he was pulled over by the cops for driving. Yep, just driving. The breatho'd him and he was OK, even though taunts from Jase the previous week to drink heavies didn't have any effect on him. But it was interesting to find out that he was driving a car that the rego expired on two months ago, so the cops made him change it there and then. Gee, you must have a trustworthy face GS. Lucky they didn't "arsk" him for his driver's licence - seeing he hasn't got one.
Ever gracious in defeat, I say to the Rejects "Up your arse".
Injuries - Inzy (calf) expected to miss 2 weeks, Dave (plot) expected to miss the bus to the next game.